I crossed through the former parking lot/current dining hall space and headed up to the other side.
This is the trail headed up to the shooting ranges. Again, much like the trail to the council ring and the trail to the waterfront, it seemed much shorter 25 years later.
Reaching the top of the hill, I found most of this area has I remembered it. This is the archery range. Scouts stood in the shelter area and fired arrows at targets lined down toward the trees in the distance. Archery was fun, but I never quite mastered the technique to avoid having the string hit my arm when I released it. Not only was this error in form/technique painful, it left quite a mark.
To the right of the archery range is the rifle range. The structure and set-up had not changed, although, much like with the trails, the distance from the shelter to where the targets were placed seemed much shorter. I never was very good at target shooting. I'm not sure if it was a lack of patience, the inability to hold still/hold my breath or a combination of both.
This skeet range was new. Skeet wasn't a merit badge then, and to my knowledge it isn't now. I assume this was set up/created solely for enjoyment. Given my poor performance with target shooting, it's highly unlikely I would have had much success with skeet shooting.
Headed back down the hill, I noticed one of the staff/counselor shelters. In the off-season, the shelters are used to store the pallets for the tent floors and the cots. From the appearance of the cots stacked in this picture, they may well be the same ones used when I attended years ago.
Just down the trail from the shooting areas, headed east from the dining hall, are more campsites. This is the first one you come to headed that way, although there is now one even further out past this.The name for this campsite was accurate, or at least that was the rumor. A week out here would result in a person being covered with chigger bites by departure on Saturday. If you're not familiar with chiggers (you may simply call them something else), here's an informative link.
Daylight was fading fast by this point. I walked back toward my car. I stood there for several minutes with my mind "seeing" what had gone on years ago rather than the physical appearance and structures present that day. It brought back so many memories. A brisk gust of wind brought my attention back to the present time. I got in the car and drove out, waving to the caretaker who was out in his yard across from the camp as I left.
I don't know if I'll ever make another trip up there, but it was a great time.
I never learned how to keep the bow string from smacking my arm, either. But I did win an award for my ingenious invention for stopping this painful happening. I got my dad’s hacksaw, an empty can of green beans and a rattail file. I cut the ends off the can and then cut the can in half length wise and used the file to smooth the cut edges. I punched several holes alone each side and treaded it with some string. I put it on my wrist, squeezed it to fit and tied it off. Walla! It worked and everyone wanted me to make one for them. I would for a price, but no one wanted to pay for it, so they either made their own or suffered.
ReplyDeleteCoffeypot, I think you could have sold many of them back in the day at Sequoyah.
ReplyDeleteYou mean the bow string isn't supposed to leave painful red welts on your forearms? Who knew?
ReplyDeleteTravis, the only reason I knew was because most of the other guys weren't having that problem.
ReplyDelete